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A table-full of welcome!
William Shakespeare
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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Stage Actor
Writer
Stratford-upon-Avon
Warwickshire
Shakespeare
The Bard
The Bard of Avon
William Shakspere
Swan of Avon
Bard of Avon
Shakespere
Shakespear
Shakspeare
Shackspeare
William Shake‐ſpeare
Full
Hospitality
Table
Tables
Welcome
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Tis a cruelty to load a fallen man.
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The mightier man, the mightier is the thing That makes him honored or begets him hate For greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
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The hideous god of war.
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Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
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The cunning livery of hell.
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All furnished, all in arms All plum'd like estridges that with the wind Bated like eagles having lately bathed Glittering in golden coats like images As full of spirit as the month of May And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
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Have patience, and endure
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The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.
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O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven
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If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
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So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.
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There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't
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How many ages hence Shall this our lofty scene be acted over In states unborn and accents yet unknown!
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Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
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I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe. What is decreed must be and be this so.
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Cursed be he that moves my bones.
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I prithee gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passions, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent Against thy peace.
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O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple.
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I am not mad I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself O, if I could, what grief should I forget!
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Sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
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